Looking Through You
by Rogue Amazon Boo
Summary: Fred learns a little more about the man behind the glasses.


Looking Through You  
  
By  
  
Rogue Amazon Boo  
  
Late Nights were always the worst. The reason being because they usually followed long disappointing days. The days when he had not been smart enough, or quick enough or even brave enough. They were the days when his failure as a human being weighed heavy on his mind and he knew that sleep would be a long time in coming. And when it did come, it held the harsh grating voice of his father. A voice that he had managed to silence for the better part of two years now. With a sigh Wesley dragged a hand though his hair and replaced his glasses over blue eyes. He realized that he had just re-read the same line three times, and pushed the stack of paper work he had been sorting through on his desk away from him. The only sound in the office was the ancient creaking woodwork of the Hyperion hotel settling in for the night. He found the sound quite comforting for a place that had been home to a fear-sucking demon for the better part of a century. Still despite the familiarity of his surrounding and the coma inducing case files he had been updating the former watcher was edgy. Wesley knew it was due mostly to the case they had just lost and the young girl who had lost her life with it. It was just one of those cases, one of those failures were he believed he should have seen it coming, should have been a split second faster, an IQ point smarter, a dash braver. It was one of those cases where the day was lost because of him and the evil was just that much more powerful. He sighed again and slowly rose from his chair to cross the room. With a furtive glance the sandy haired lanky man knelt next to a locked drawer and carefully separated a key from his key ring. He then unlocked it and removed a small plastic case from the drawer and crossed quickly to the CD player that was on the counter. With a small smile the former watcher opened the case, slipped the disc inside, selected a song, and pressed play. Wesley let the music wash over him just like he had done as a boy and felt a peace only the music could bring. He then began to softly sing along until the final note had played and the strains of the next song had begun. He hummed as he went back to his desk chair and just leaned back to let the music flow over him, the music that was the only thing that let him escape from the echoes of his abusive father and all his bad days. His secret music. He sat there for the next half hour just letting the strains of melody sooth his tired soul and when the CD had finished he carefully replaced it in his locked drawer, gathered his things, and locked up his office for the night. He was still preoccupied which is why he failed to see the shadow in the corner watching him leave.  
  
Fred waited till Wesley had left before emerging from dark corner she had been lurking in. The semi-crazy raven-haired physicist had a small smile on her lips and sadness in the depths of her brown eyes. The smile was for the secret part of a brave and brilliant man she had just been privy too, and the sadness was for all the other secret depths that none of them knew. In a lot of ways Wesley was as big of a mystery as she herself was, which was saying quite a lot actually. He really was for all intents and purposes a exceedingly private man, which is why she instinctively knew that she was the only one that really knew how he comforted himself after a horrible day. It was a surprise. Cordelia would have thought him too stuffy, but Fred realized that it fit the complex man he was to the letter. It also gave her a brilliant idea. Winifred quietly crossed the main lobby of the hotel and removed her coat from the closet by the door. With one last glance around to make sure nothing had been disturbed she opened the door and left. She knew exactly where to go. She just hoped Wesley wouldn't be mad at her when he realized what it meant.  
  
Wesley came to work early the next morning after the fruitless night of tossing and turning he had just spent. Finally at around five thirty he figured that he might as well just go to work since he wasn't going to get any sleep. Exhausted and more than a bit grumpy the former watcher stumbled though the door of the Hyperion, toward the coffee pot, filled it with two more scoops than was necessary of the Colombian coffee Cordy imported from Starbucks, and started the percolator. Usually he would have a cup of tea but the disgusting black American swill would jolt him awake faster. With a tired yawn the young Englishman turned from the coffeemaker, opened his office door, and laid his briefcase on his desk. That is when he noticed the two items on his desk that had not been there the night before and froze. Right there in the middle of his calendar was a red cellophane colored CD case with a large yellow one in the center. Awe struck he gingerly lifted it already knowing the name printed on the side.  
  
"It's the Beatles number ones. I hope you don't have it yet," a soft lilting voice drawled. Wes turned suddenly to see Fred silhouetted in his doorway dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.  
  
"How did you…" he asked stunned. Fred blushed a little and came into the office.  
  
"Last night…I wanted a drink of water and I saw…" she stuttered. It was Wesley's turn to blush. "Wesley how come you keep it a secret? I mean lots of people are Beatles fans its nothing to be ashamed of, you know like being an fan of the Backstreet Boys is." Wes smiled slightly at that and then his face fell. His eyes glowed with a far away expression. Fred could almost see him looking backward though time at the answer to her question.  
  
"When I was young I had a friend that my father didn't really approve of. His name was Paul and he had two younger brothers named John and George. His parents had been flower children in the sixties and had grown up listening to the Beatles. They passed that love on to Paul. I remember that I would go over to his house for dinner and everything would be so different from my own. They would all gather around the table and really tell each other about their days and then after dinner Paul's father would take his guitar from the closet and we would all sing Beatles songs," Wesley stopped to draw in a breath and Fred instantly knew that despite the happy beginning this story did not have a happy ending. She instinctively stepped closer to him.  
  
"What happened to Paul?" she asked softly. Wesley jerked his body back around towards her like he had forgotten she was even there. His eyes were shadowed behind his glasses when he flatly replied.  
  
"He died in a mysterious fire that destroyed his house. His family lost everything…everything except this." Fred watched Wesley cross the small office to the locked drawer; he then pulled out a white album cover with scorched edges. He took out one of the vinyl records nestled inside to show her its prestigious condition. Her large brown eyes widened in surprise as she crossed over to him and gently took the record in her hands.  
  
"Wesley…this should have been impossible. If the house burned like you have implied the heat intensity should have reduced this to black goo," she said puzzled.  
  
"I know, which is why his family gave it to me. The believed that Paul had saved it for me, so that I would never forget the peace I had found in their home. After all it was his favorite album," he finished softly.  
  
"Did they ever find out what started the fire?" She asked innocently. Wes gently took the record from her and abruptly turned away.  
  
"No," he lied. He wasn't about to tell her that he suspected his own father for the murder of his best friend and Fred had the courtesy not to pry. After all who better to understand painful secrets if not her? Silence reined for a moment before Fred broke it.  
  
"I'm sorry Wesley," she whispered. Puzzled he turned sat down on the edge of his desk to face her. She was so close he could almost feel her breath on his skin.  
  
"Whatever on earth for?" he asked. She looked deep into his eyes and the compassion there was almost his undoing.  
  
"I just wanted to get you a nice gift to maybe cheer you up from yesterday. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." Wesley was quiet for a moment but then completely surprised Fred with the large smile that split his face. He picked the CD back up and also the coffee mug that was next to it, which he had ignored earlier.  
  
"Fred never apologize to me for being the thoughtful and sweet person you are. Besides I actually don't have this one and have been meaning to purchase it…so thank you. As for this coffee mug, it is actually kind of ironic." This time he positively grinned and it was Fred's turn to be puzzled.  
  
"I don't think I understand. I just thought it would go well with your "Have Demon, Will Slay," one."  
  
"I am the Walrus," he prompted quoting from the mug. She still looked lost and Wesley grinned wider.  
  
"It appears my dear Fred that I must educate you on your Beatles lore. 'I told you 'bout the Walrus and me man, yeah you know we're close as can be man. Now here's another clue for you all," he sang but Fred finished it softly.  
  
"The Walrus was Paul." His grin turned into a soft smile.  
  
"Yes…the Walrus was Paul," he whispered and then pulled her into a hug. "Thank you Winifred." She smiled into his shoulder.  
  
"You're welcome Wesley." 


End file.
